


Backseat Regrets

by cant



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Sex, Wizarding World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 15:56:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cant/pseuds/cant
Summary: another one about these idiots





	

Alastair knew he was good looking. He had been his whole life. He'd been treated as such, used it to his advantage shamelessly many more times than he'd be inclined to admit, and people weren't afraid to remind him.   
Especially when sitting in his lap, sinking slowly down, pressure and heart rate increasing steadily, lips parting in a soft breath out against his. He'd forgotten her name already. They'd briefly exchanged some kind of pleasantries, being as polite as they could be bothered to be, and he was sitting in the back seat of her car before he knew it. When people like themselves met it was quickly and in the dark.  
She didn't kiss him, only let lips brush together quietly as she shifted her weight onto her knees. Faster and faster, she let him push up into her a little until the car was hot and she was breathing into his neck and her fist was tugging his hair whilst his grasped her thighs, gasping together and holding a stranger's body close.   
It didn't seem so strange to Alastair. He'd done this before, trying to stay silent in a dorm room with a girl with thick eyebrows and an expressive voice. Once he'd had to hold his hand over her mouth and hide under the covers as someone came in and asked if he was feeling all right - he was feeling absolutely fine, thanks - as he teased her with little touches and a gentle grind to make her whine. She hated him sometimes, but she never hated him when he'd done everything in his power to make her feel good.   
The woman on his lap pulled back a fraction to look at him. "Are you all right?" she asked, panting heavily. "Flaggin' a bit?"   
"Aye, a wee bit," he mumbled, avoiding her eyes. She sighed heavily, evidently pissed off, but there was nothing he could do. His memories of Margo were so sad. They always were. He surrounded himself with muggles in an attempt to get away from the world of magic, making acquaintance with people who thought the Dark Mark on his wrist was just a tattoo and who thought the magic they saw had 'a perfectly rational explanation'.   
She huffed a little but slid off his lap, adjusting her bridesmaid's dress. "Is my hair okay?"   
"Yer hair's fine," he said softly, his voice not sounding like his own as he re-did his trousers and tried to avoid looking at her for fear he might see her. "Sorry. Lost the mood."   
"It's not me, is it?"   
"No, no," he reassured her, "just got a lot on my mind, you know? It's not you, darlin'."   
"Shouldn't think so," she said, a tiny smirk in her voice. "You look sad suddenly. Kind of killed my mood too."   
"Sorry," he said again, gaze falling to the floor. "Was thinkin' about... Doesn't matter, does it?"   
"No," she admitted, like it was true but it wasn't the whole truth. A concession. "Who is it, a girlfriend or something? Boyfriend? Ex?"   
Alastair just nodded to that.


End file.
